


A Boy Named Angel

by AryaStella



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Yuri Plisetsky, Crossdressing, Death, Drug Addiction, Heartbreak, Heroin, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Rape Recovery, Self-Harm, Suicide, Suicide Notes, Top Otabek Altin, Trauma, stripper yuri plisetsky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27122896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AryaStella/pseuds/AryaStella
Summary: The suicide note of Yuri Plisetsky.-Yuri writing his suicide note, writing about points in his life bringing him to this moment.-Huge trigger warning. Please reach out to me or anyone else if you need help. You are not alone.
Relationships: Jean-Jacques Leroy/Yuri Plisetsky, Mila Babicheva & Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin & Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

  
"10/10/2020, 9:45PM.

  
Back when I was 5, my whole world was my mother, father, and the blue walls of my bedroom. I don't remember much of that time, but I do remember what she looked like. I cherish every picture that pops up in my mind from time to time. 

  
11 years ago my mother packed a bag. She called me into the bedroom, smiling widely as she always did, and hugged me. "Be a good boy for papa, Yuratchka", she said, "I'll be back before you know it.". She pulled out the small bunny figurine she always kissed before she left, so I could feel her with me. She kissed it, handing it to me. "Keep it safe."

  
"But you need to need to help me pack my bag, it's my first day tomorrow!" I yelled excitedly. "I'll pack it for you, zaychik" she smiled.

Well, ha, she never packed my bag. That was the last time I saw my mother. 

  
I wish I could say she died in a horrible accident. That's what I tell people who won't leave me alone about it. Truth is, she just got up and left. I knew then that things weren't too great with her and my dad, but I never thought she'd ever choose silence over her own son. Over me. I wanted to find her, at least try, but it's too late now. Moving on, I don't wanna cry yet. 

  
My dad was my hero, working for the best High Tech companies all around the world. I adored him, his tattoos I ran my hands over all the time, his long hair that made me never cut mine. But even heroes bleed. As time went by, my dad slowly lost his motivation. He didn't see the point of working, he didn't see the point of taking care of me, he didn't see the point of living. With sadness came frustration, with frustration came anger. By 8 I was covering my arms and legs with long black clothes.

  
That didn't stop me from being a geniunely happy kid, though. School was my getaway. Seeing friends and being dumb, girls braiding my hair and boys kicking my ass at soccer. I loved Elementary school, damn. Struggling with money at that point, every morning I stopped at different coffee shops, taking whatever food tray was on the counter, and running the hell outta there before the customer came to take it. 

  
The summer between 6th grade to 7th, I was ecstatic. I was so excited to be in middle school. Last time I was starting school, my mom ditched. Nothing can ruin me now.

  
And on the 23rd of August, my life froze.

* * *

" _Bye Yuri!_ " Minami yelled from his front door, smiling at Yuri. They just finished decorating their new backpacks with patches and pins of cartoons and bands. They couldn't wait for middle school. It was pretty late at night, streets empty and quiet, but he wasn't scared as it was only a 15 minutes walk. Turning into his block, he saw the gate to his house, and that was the only thing he could tell the police when they asked him how it happened.

He didn't know how it happened. From looking at the gate, he opened his eyes to find himself on his back in the ally just next to his house. He screamed so hard it _hurt_ , but was shut down by a grown man's hand pushing hard against his mouth, other hand pulling Yuri's jeans down to his knees as Yuri kept kicking and pulling on the man's wrist hysterically with both of his hands. He didn't know what was happening to him. He couldn't stop screaming as he cried, looking at the man on top of him, becoming his worst nightmare for years to come. The man's hand went down to his throat, pushing down with force, and Yuri couldn't scream anymore as he choked, feeling his most intimate part being cut open. 

  
That's the last thing he remembers. He doesn't remember his neighbor coming out of her house screaming, he doesn't remember how it felt to breathe again, he doesn't remember the man pulling out of his abused body and running for his life.

  
" _His name is Yuri! I think! I think. I'm not sure_ " his neighbor cried hysterically, talking to a police officer as he gathered the most information he could. In front of them, two paramedics kneeled next to the boy. Yuri covered his eyes, and he stayed that way for hours. The paramedics tried to pull his hands away from his eyes, a psychologist was brought down to the pavement and tried to comfort, assure him that he was _safe_. Begged him to listen. Yuri couldn't hear anything. Yuri didn't want light to ever hit his eyes again. As long as he kept his eyes closed, none of it was real. No one was talking to him, no one was looking at him. He wasn't there. 

  
The paramedics picked him up and put him in the ambulance, the psychologist's hand never ceases to rub his back softly.   
The police tried to get in contact with Yuri's father the whole night, calling and banging on his door. He opened the door, listening to the panic in the policeman's voice, and calmly said he'll be right there. Waking up, Yuri could see again. But he couldn't talk.

* * *

My dad never showed up. Not at the hospital, not at the police station. When I came back home with a social worker, he was sprawled on the couch with a beer in his hand. And each time a social worker tried to take care of the situation, I would shut the whole thing down. I didn't want him gone, I had control over my life when he was there. I kept fighting and denying everything. Well, as much as I could with a shitty pen and some paper. 

  
**Selective Mutism**. A condition where a child loses the ability to speak in certain situations or as a reaction to triggering thoughts, often occurring after trauma. That's what the therapist at the police station told me as she put a paper in front of me with a smile, giving up on getting me to talk after being urged by the station to get information out of me. Unfortunately, I couldn't give it to them. I was terrified. I denied and avoided any and every thought. I was numb. 

  
Turned out that 'certain situations' meant all. the. fucking. time. 3 months into it and I couldn't remember what my voice sounded like. Staring at the blue walls of my room, I tried to whisper. I put music at full volume to be sure no one can hear me, and I tried again and again. My mouth moved but I couldn't even whisper. 

  
Starting middle school, my friends smiled at me sadly, no one daring to come close. Police officers had the teachers prepare my closest friends of the fact that I can't speak, and won't speak for a while. Happy, funny Yuri was out the window by then. Every English class I would be taken out and spend the hour at the counselor's office instead, writing on paper what I wanted to say. She knew the marks on my skin weren't only my father's doing, and she knew why I was getting skinnier by the day. Yet Mila smiled at me every time I walked into her office, letting me tell my story through faded ink and scrunched up papers. 

  
Mila became my best friend. Seeing her was the only thing motivating me to go to school. Everything I wrote on the paper, she read out loud and looked me in the eyes for approval, making sure she got every tone correctly. I told her about the pain I feel down there when I try to sleep, the feeling of someone watching me as I take the trash out, never daring to leave my house. As time went by, she started to talk about her family, her little girl Nadia, their plans to move to the Netherlands one day. Seeing her smile with joy as she described the beauty of the unknown, I started to let go of my fear of it. I stopped forcing myself to whisper, stopped forcing myself to be strong. I found myself crying every night and it felt almost blissful. The pain was there, the hunger was there, but I could finally let the stress out. 

  
I didn't know why I was doing it. I had no reason to. I was always a skinny boy, and marks on my skin once made me terrified of any scars that might remain from them. Letting go of my fear brought toxic thoughts that I couldn't escape from. Exploring Tumblr for the first time, I very quickly fell into the awful, awful posts of self harm in a thousand different ways. 

  
By 15, I was 27 kg at the height of 159 cm, long shirts never showing my wrists. But hey, I had my voice back. 

  
I knew I wasn't attracted to girls, I always figured my intimacy need was fucked after my assault. I stopped forcing myself to like them, swallowing myself into a bubble and relieving in the comfort of never talking to anyone, keeping up the facade of mutism even though I was capable of talking now. 

  
Being absent from English classes, I made up for it at recess. While sitting at the cafeteria, reading "To Kill a Mockingbird" for my English assignment, I felt eyes digging into my head. Being used to and terrified of that feeling, I raised my head quickly, my long hair almost preventing me from locking eyes with a boy across the room. The boy stared and left, his friend pulling him away. Shit, I was sure I'll marry that guy. Sorry, I'm spoiling everything.

  
The boy, I learned, was Otabek. Otabek sat by me every day, sinking into my silence, smiling at me when we locked eyes. After a while, he had me smiling back at him. One day, he sat down and out of his bag he pulled a pen, took the napkin off his tray and started writing. Sliding the napkin to me, I read his words.

  
" _What's your name?_ " 

  
And I fell for that boy. I fell hard. Fuck the whole "Am I gay?" phase, I was absolutley in love with everything about him.

A few months into our small encounters, he invited me to a party at his friend's house. I knew I couldn't go, it was ridiculous of him to think that I would. Yet, I found myself at the front door at 9pm, staring at it frozen. Being exposed to my dad's habits from a young age, I pulled out a pack of cigarettes and started walking away, terror winning over me. 

  
" _You got another one?_ " a voice called from behind me. Not recognizing the guy in the dark, I let out a soft "Yeah." and walked over. Otabek looked at me as if I was a ghost. Mouth gaping, eyes wide, and not a second later he hugged me. And it downed on me that he just heard my voice for the first time. 

  
He kissed me that night. Thinking back about it, it was downright awful. But the world froze and all I could feel was his hand on my cheek. 

Otabek's parents didn't like me at first. They didn't like the emo kid walking in and out of their son's room, trying to tell him he should stick to his other friends. When he told them I wasn't just a friend, I was surprised by the acceptance and the support he received. I sat there, smiling politely as they hugged, aching with jealousy. His mom kept talking shit about me to her friends and family, worried about her son ending up with a quiet, messed up kid who's mom died. But he loved me. And I loved him. And that was the most sure I've ever been about anything in my life.

We had been dating for 7 months when the question popped up in a conversation. " _Are you attracted to me?_ " he asked, both of us laying on his bed as he was caressing my cheek and tucking my hair behind my ear. I wasn't. Not physically. He was beautiful, his body was amazing. But I couldn't think about anything involving sex. I never felt physical attraction to anyone.

* * *

" _Yes_ " Yuri answered, looking down between their bodies on the bed.

Otabek kissed him softly, then not so softly. Yuri wrapped his hands around Otabek's neck, returning the kiss with the same force as he tried to come up with _anything_ that'll stop the boy. Otabek turned him on his back, Yuri's eyes widening in panic as he remembered the last person to do so. Not paying attention, Otabek sucked on his neck while his hands began to travel down Yuri's chest and into his jeans, pulling them down to his knees.

  
Yuri never touched himself, but he wasn't dumb. He knew he's supposed to get hard and it broke his heart thinking of hurting Otabek. Before Otabek could wrap his hand around Yuri, the boy pushed Otabek's hand lower, making him press against his entrance through his underwear. Otabek moaned as he pulled the underwear aside and started teasing the hole, while kissing and sucking on Yuri's neck. Yuri's breathe quickened, and not from pleasure.

Yuri held his boyfriend's head to his neck as he felt fingers penetrating him, feeling tears roll down his cheeks and _screaming_ at the thoughts in his head to go _away_.  
Otabek pulled his fingers out of him, looking at Yuri's face and smirking at the tears of pleasure on his boyfriend's face. Yuri smiled at him, watching as Otabek pulled his pants down along with his underwear. Yuri sat up and wrapped his hand around Otabek, looking at his hand moving up and down slowly. "Use your spit, angel" Otabek whispered, grabbing at Yuri's hair. _Angel?_

  
After working Otabek's cock for a few minutes, Otabek pushed him back down, devouring him with rough kisses as he added two more fingers into him. Yuri cried, his sobs disguising themselves as pleasure, every cry making Otabek move his hand faster. Nearing the edge, Otabek's hand wrapped around Yuri's neck as his fingers pounded faster and faster into Yuri. 

  
Yuri lost it. Screaming and pushing and grabbing, while Otabek kept going thinking he's making this boy go wild with his hands.   
**Yuri froze** , covering his eyes he relaxed his body completely. He saw darkness, he felt nothing. He wasn't there.

Otabek smiled as he saw his boyfriend coming down from his intense high, jerking his cock faster and faster, pulling Yuri's hands away from his face and ejaculating right on it. 

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big yikes warning <3

As time went by, I grew out of my dark clothes. After lots of therapy sessions, I was back at a normal weight and feeling good about it, with a lot of support from Otabek. He made me feel beautiful, and interesting, and smart. He introduced me to many of his friends, and I began talking more and more as they kept coming. I was no longer the freak, the 'mute', although I did stay quiet most of the time.

  
The first halloween we were celebrating together, we dressed up as Harley Quinn and the Joker. And let me tell you, it took a LOT of convincing from him to make me wear those shorts and heels. But when I did, and I saw everyone at school smiling and complimenting me, and something in me changed. I told Otabek about it not long after that day, and the next day I was gifted with a pair of black heels and a plaid black and white skirt. 

  
"You can't be serious" I glared at him. He sat next to me, smiling confidentaly, and kissed my cheek. "Come on. Put it on. I paid a shit ton for these."

  
I did. And for the first time in my life, I wasn't disgusted looking at my thighs. It felt right, and it showed. Now this was a hard pill for his parents to swallow, but somehow, it brought us closer. His mom would compliment me on my outfits, I would do her makeup before any important event. It felt like family. I slept there almost every night. 

  
When I did come home from time to time, my father was right there waiting. Making a run to my room before he heard me walking in, I felt safe. But it didn't take long before he caught on, hearing the click clack of heels, watching me bring the same guy to my room over and over again. 

  
I woke up at 2am one night, dying of thirst. I unlocked the door, walked to the kitchen and filled up a glass with water. There was a hand on he back of my neck, but I wasn't alarmed. 

* * *

  
Yuri turned around to look at him, tired from just waking up and exhausted of him.

"What?" he spat sleepily, eyes barely staying open. 

  
His father laughed bitterly, fixing his grip on Yuri's neck and pushing him against the counter, facing him. "You think you can hide it from me? Your sick games?" he forced Yuri's head up, looking at him, enraged. "You're no fucking son, you're a motherfucking tranny" and he punched the left side of Yuri's face. Yuri was used to these words, but the pain seemed to always hurt like it did the first time. 

  
His father pushed him against the wall behind him, folding his palm into a fist and hitting Yuri's mouth with the side of it over and over again, as if there was a dick pushing against his lips. 

  
"Oh you like that don't you?" he hit harder against his mouth as he was holding Yuri's head in place. "I wasted all my life raising you, for that?" he laughed, and Yuri did hear pain in his voice. And for a moment, Yuri was ashamed. 

  
"Ah, I knew that fucker messed you up. Fucking you so young, making you crave every bit of it". Yuri's heart sank, and he couldn't hear his words anymore. He was caught up on these words, he couldn't feel the punches to his guts. So Yuri covered his eyes, and he was gone. 

  
Their relationship changed that night. Yuri's father never made his beatings sexual, never touching the way he did, and Yuri caught on. Since that day, each time he walked into the house, he felt that _sickening_ tension running through him. He knew something was wrong. 

* * *

  
Around that time I met JJ, one of Beka's friends. He was older than us and showed a weird interest in me, according to Otabek. Otabek's group of friends has been smoking weed for a while now, with me joining from time to time. One of those times, JJ came up to me and asked if I ever tried something stronger. It's hard thinking about that conversation now.

  
I lied to Beka about where I'm at as I walked up the stairs to JJ's house. He hugged me and let me in, and I sat on the couch. It was right there on the table, and I acted like I didn't see it.

He made small talk, offering me a cigarette, which I took. I felt sick when he picked up the bag with the syringes. I thought he meant coke, molly, anything else. 

  
"It's so cool that you're open minded like that. No one else wanted to try that shit with me" he laughed and leaned back into the couch, opening the bag and pulling them out. "You're really beautiful, you know that?" He looked at me and smiled. 

  
"Thank you" I smiled awkwardly, my head screaming so many thoughts at once that I can't focus on what I'm doing and if I want to stop and why I want to stop and when I want to stop and- 

  
He grabbed my hand and turned it around, kissing the bottom of my wrist and going up my arm slowly. He looked up at me, his other hand popping the lid of the syringe open, drops of liquid escaping from it. 

  
" _What happened to you?_ _Who hurt you?_ " he whispered as kept kissing up my arm, and I was frozen.   
"Why did you stop talking?" he reached my neck, "I can make it all go away" he leaned back and looked into my eyes intensley. And now I'm crying, because that was the moment my life was ruined. I would give anything, **anything** , to take back the words I said next.

  
_"Make it go away"._

  
Just like that. Such a small, desperate, hopefull decision, turning the life I've worked so hard to achieve upside down. 

  
I barely felt it the first time. I was dizzy, I was laughing, I felt hands on me, under me, in me, and I was peaceful. I wasn't scared of touch, and that made me so unbelievably happy. The only thing in the back of my mind was Beka, and in a fucked up moment there, I chose he's not worth it if he'll end my beautiful escpae. Why would I need to impress anyone, as long as I'm finally so geniunley happy with myself? 

  
I was starting Sophomore year when I felt the itches, all over my body, all over my brain. I've been injecting for a while now, Otabek now aware and slurping up every "I swear I'm in control" lie I threw at his face. Once or twice a week I'd march up JJ's staircase, smiling like a maniac, itching for my euphoria. He'd give me bottles to take home, filled with my joy. We called it water, and it truley was water to me. Honestly, I can count on two hands the number of days I came to class sober. And I never had to worry about the price. I did pay the price eventually. 

  
24/7 in my intensley good state of mind, I was starting to get too charming to the wrong crowd. A boy wearing a skirt was a pretty difficult view to ignore, and between the shocked faces, there were always ones of lust. I loved it. My ego was bursting through the roof. That's how I found myself texting Chris, the owner of an LGBT+ strip club downtown. Wasted out of my mind as always, I jumped on the opportunity, starving for action and excitment and attention. Hey shout out to Chris - you fucking suck

  
Otabek took matters to his hands, picking me up one night and telling me to stay in the car. I was rubbing the leather seat in my dazed state, feeling every bump and texture, when I heard the sound of nylon in the back. He put my bottles in a bag, and hurried to the driver seat to catch me before I bolted for them.

He held me for hours in the car, whispering into my ear every word of pain and doubt I ever felt towards those bottles. And I let him drive me to a lake, and I let him throw the bag in, and I let him hold me down when I was screaming, violently trying to run after them. 

  
Stripping was the only string attaching me to the world I loved. The dangerous, sexy, messed up life I craved. Completely losing myself in my new personality, I was starving for a new start, and a new mark. 

  
From that day I was Angel. Beka's little habit of calling me that every time we fucked caught on, and soon enough men at the club liked the taste of it. Angel gave me purpose, Angel satisfied my pain and ache. I felt special, I felt wanted, I felt beautiful. I felt _new_. 

  
Never actually doing pole work - that shit fucking HURTS, I swear- I settled for letting men touch the merchandise. That was my little euphoria. Rich, grown, perfumed men wanting my drunk body closer and closer, telling me all the words I craved to hear. And Otabek stayed, picking me up from every shift, ignoring the stench of heavy perfume and cigarettes and kissing me to sleep every night. 

  
I love you Beka. I hope you're doing better. You've saved me more times than you know, and I'm sorry you won't get to this time. I wish you were here with me. I'm sorry.

  
Otabek broke down and left after saving my life for the last time. 

* * *

Stuffed with a cold, 17 year old Yuri turned around in bed, never getting the pillows high enough for his head to not be flat and choke. After hours of frustration, Yuri propped himself down on the living room couch, watching spongebob while surrounded by a sea of toilet paper instead of a floor. 

  
Hearing a door opening from one of the bedrooms, he sat up and relaxed as his sleepy father come into view, not even looking Yuri in the eyes. Yuri's father sat at the end of the couch, centimiters away from Yuri's curled up legs.

His father put his hand on Yuri's legs, straightening them over his lap, and for the first time in over a decade, Yuri felt affection from his childhood hero. That joy died out so quickly, he barely got to feel it. 

  
Rubbing Yuri's legs, gripping a little tighter, his hips moved. Yuri froze, heart stopping and stomach turning, staring at the picture in front of him, _under him_. It all happened so suddenly, he wasn't sure if his brain was making shit up with the mix of tension and fear.

Yuri couldn't feel the hands on his legs, but he could feel the sickening hard lump being squeezed between his ankles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if this fic is gonna catch on, but I'm having fun so whatever lol. Make sure to check out my other works! I'm hyped. Thank you!


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